


Darkened Results

by flash0flight



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Implied Smut, M/M, Superhusbands, again.. sort of, established marriage, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flash0flight/pseuds/flash0flight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finds himself facing the result of his handiwork - a set of bruises he's left on Tony's skin- and has a moment where he can't help but wonder if it's really worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkened Results

**Author's Note:**

> I still blame my Tony for this. Based loosely on [this fanart](http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/282/5/5/stony_by_kgc030-d5hczi9.png), written for Ally who seems to insist I should write smut-related things more often.

Training sessions have become a regular thing for them. Even though Tony had spent half an hour whining that he was too tired, that he needed another three hours of recovery time before he even got out of bed, and that it was _entirely_ Steve’s fault he could hardly hold himself up, the soldier had merely chuckled, pressed a kiss to his temple, and said he’d see him in the gym’s changing rooms in ten minutes.

Steve is expecting the same thing as always. The pair of them ‘discretely’ changing into their training clothing, Tony sneaking peeks and trying his best to change course, and Steve remaining as honourable as always. Well, almost always.

What Steve hadn’t expected, though, was to hear the slightest gasp of pain from his husband.

Taking a moment to glance behind him, Steve has the question on his lips. He’s about to ask, he can’t help it. He doesn’t like when Tony’s in pain. What if it’s the reactor? What if something’s wrong? What if he needs to replace the core, or it’s not in place, or there’s a complication? Possibilities are running through his mind at a million miles an hour until Steve catches sight of the dark, finger-shaped bruises on Tony’s back and hips.

The previous night flashed through his mind clear as ever. The groans and gasps, the heat, the feel of their skin flush together. The contrast of the cold metal of the arc reactor against his burning chest. Tony’s nails digging into the flesh of his back. Scratching. Needing. Desperate. There’s little doubt in Steve’s mind that there are scratches on his back, and that’s saying something. The soldier is not easy to harm.

Tony always manages it, though.

“ Tony—your back—“ And as much as Steve knows it probably isn’t serious, the bruises are dark purple and looks nasty. Guilt spreads through his heart as Steve steps closer, hardly registering the surprise on Tony’s expression, his hands stopped in mid-air, shirt halfway up his body. But it’s enough, enough for Steve to see the marks, the bruises he left.

The pain he’d caused because of the strength that somehow escaped his mind when he lost himself. When he and Tony unravelled each other.

“ What—It’s just a few bruises, not like we haven’t— _Steve,_ relax. “ Tony’s tone changes mid sentence as he feels Steve’s hands on his sides, gentle fingers sliding along his ribs, enticing a shiver from the smaller man. Steve has nothing but worry on his mind, though, as his hands pause just above the bruises on Tony’s hips. The darkest and probably the most painful ones.

“ I—god, Tony—“ Steve murmurs into his hair as he rests his forehead against the back of Tony’s head, closing his eyes against the soft brown curls he loves so much. He can’t bring himself to move his hands, to bring more hurt to the man he loves, not yet. After a few deep breaths, his hands move, not closer to the bruises, but further, fingers flitting across Tony’s before he lifted his shirt over his head, discarding it mindlessly. “ I’m sorry. “ His voice, usually so full of control, so commanding, turns soft and careful, muffled in Tony’s hair once more. “ I’m so sorry, you—“

“ What, you’re apologising? Really? Steve, these—“ Tony pauses for a moment as Steve’s hands settle on his sides again, fingertips ghosting over the bruises he’d left, but never touching them. Not for a moment. “ It’s not—It was one of the best nights of my life and you’re—apologising? “

“ You’re bruised, because I—Jesus Christ. “ They’re on his shoulders, his ribs, small dots on his skin from when Steve had needed to hold on. And he always did, when it was Tony. When every sense and every instinct was going haywire, when all that existed was the two of them, when nothing else seemed to exist. Now, though, staring at the result of his work, Steve wonders if it was worth it. Because now, Tony’s in pain. “ I should have—“ Steve presses a gentle kiss against the bruises on Tony’s shoulder, doing his best to ignore the hitch in Tony’s breath—“ Been more careful—“ He presses another into one of the smaller bruises just off of Tony’s spine, disregarding the way Tony let out a small sigh—“ I’m sorry, Tony. “

“ Steve—you’re an idiot—“ Tony breathes out hopelessly, a hand reaching back to wind into Steve’s hair as the blond presses his forehead against the crook of Tony’s neck, taking a moment to bask in the feel of Tony’s fingers flexing against his head, somewhere in between comforting him and urging him on. “ I loved it, alright? I loved every second of it. The bruises—I love them too. They’re proof to me that—I have you. “

Steve’s breath catches in his throat at Tony’s words, and he finds his hands wrapping around Tony’s waist, pulling him closer. As though somehow being pressed together could heal his bruises, make them fade, make them go away.

“ Besides—“ Tony brakes the silence with an amused tone, and Steve can imagine the grin that would be on his face. “ It’s not like I didn’t hurt you, too. “

“ That’s different, mine don’t last—“ Steve begins, murmuring against the skin of Tony’s neck, only to be interrupted.

“ Soldier, you’re practically invincible. Any mark is impressive. “ Tony chuckles, pushing back against the blond curled around him so protectively. That earns him a soft laugh and a series of soft kisses against the base of his neck, careful and soft and sweet.

“ Still, the bruises are—I’ll be more careful—“

Tony surprises him by squirming in his grip, spinning around as fast as he possibly can so they’re nose to nose, defiant brown eyes staring up into startled blue. “ Don’t even think about it. “

“ But—Tony, it’s—“ And then Tony’s lips are pressed against his, warm and familiar and insistent, desperate as always, as though if he pulls back even the slightest bit, Steve will disappear. But his arms tighten, as if by instinct, drawing Tony closer as the smaller man rests his hands on Steve’s bare back, fingers tracing the scratches he’d left behind.

“ That’s an order, Captain Stark-Rogers. “ He murmurs against Steve’s lips, rough and determined. And Steve can’t help but smile, pressing a softer kiss against Tony’s lips.

“ If you insist, Mister Stark-Rogers. “


End file.
